Next to You
by alkoholmentes
Summary: Slash, more specifically Wincest, set in season 4. After meeting Chuck, Dean becomes a bit paranoid about his not-exactly-brotherly feelings towards Sam might be discovered. If you are less than comfortable reading male/male (or incest for that matter) stories, this one is definitely not for you. Reviews are most welcome, feel free to comment. :)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is my first (but probably not last) story in Supernatural fandom, also in English. I guess it's pretty obvious why this story is rated M... ;) I would really appreciate some reviews, please let me know what you think and what am I doing right or wrong. Thank you for your support. :)

_Edit: I forgot the disclaimer, whoops. So then:_

**Disclaimer:** As much as I would like to own the boys, I, even though my heart bleeds at the thought every damn time, do not. (Was this theatrical enough...?)

* * *

Sam glanced at his brother, trying to figure out the reason behind the unusual (and, in fact, a bit scary) look on his face. Dean was like that for days now, and Sam was losing his patience exponentially with every passing minute. Whenever he had asked him what was going on, the answer was a silent headshake or a quick change of the subject. Hell, he tried; he tried so many times he lost count. He even pulled the tricky dialogue method, asking the question in different words at the most unsuspicious moments, but he simply couldn't catch Dean off guard. This whole situation was so ridiculous.

He let out a troubled sigh and slowly pushed himself to his feet. He just couldn't bear with his brother's stubbornness; he felt like his brain was going to explode if he had to spend one more minute in the same room as Dean. They were on a case, so at least he had an excuse for wandering around in the town randomly.

"I'm off," Sam stated, his voice cold as ice. He really wanted to help his brother, to know what was wrong (obviously, there was something wrong and judging from Dean's behaviour, it had to be something big), fuck, he was even ready for a fight. It would have been way better than this 'not-talking-leave-me-alone' sign on the man's forehead.

"'kay," Dean answered absent-mindedly. He was so absorbed in his own world that he didn't even notice it was 2 a.m. – or if he did, he didn't seem to care. That pissed off Sam even more, if that was possible at all.

If it wasn't for the other guests and the late hour, he would've slammed the door (several times, actually) to get rid of his anger and frustration, but then again, he had to find another way. A little walk always calmed him down, especially when the streets were abandoned. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, pushing his mind back on the trail and taking a chance to put the picture together for the hundredth time. At least.

It started about three, maybe four days ago, after they'd met Chuck. Yeah, Sam was also startled when it turned out the writer was an actual prophet, but it wasn't that... unacceptable. For instance, there was Castiel and this whole angel-stuff, so after all, this 'prophet of the Lord' crap seemed quite reasonable. To be honest, on the first day Sam couldn't even tell the meaning of the expression on Dean's face; but after long hours of thinking, he managed to figure it out. It was a hint of fear, a whole lot of guilt and uneasiness topped with self-loathing and probably disgust. Hence, he came up with a theory.

Dean must've had a secret. A secret of some unspeakable kind, hidden nice and deep in his mind; a secret he was going to protect and take to the grave rather than talk about it… and now, there was this man, Chuck, who knew _everything_ about them. Hell, he was even writing about their thoughts!

Well, that was quite inconvenient for him, too, considering the business with Ruby and his crazy appetite for demon blood, shortly all the things he'd been doing while Dean hadn't been around. He wasn't exactly going to tell his brother about that stuff; somewhere deep in his soul, he hoped that he would never have to talk about it. He could just defeat – more precisely, kill – Lilith on his own, without putting anyone in the crossfire. And after setting things straight Sam would quit this goddamn bloodsucking. He would be his normal self again, they would go on hunts with Dean and maybe, someday, they would have a home. Sam's lips curled into a sarcastic, bitter smile at the thought. To escape from these poisonous dreams he chased his mind back to the problem with Dean.

So, what was this secret? What could've been possibly worse than sucking demon blood (and enjoying it) and fucking a demon (and enjoying it pretty much)? Sam already knew about what happened in Hell anyway and he thought it was the heaviest secret Dean'd ever had.

Apparently, it wasn't.

Or Sam just didn't know everything about those months – or rather, years – his brother spent in the pit. There were just too many possibilities, too many unknown variables… Sam had to go with his instincts this time. Although he didn't like to follow his premonitions blindly, he learnt it pretty fast that the hunter's best weapon is to trust his instincts, especially when a case couldn't be solved with salt, iron or some badass demon-killing knife.

Now his so-called instincts told him that Dean's current mood wasn't connected to Hell. It was something else, most likely something older; and if he didn't want to talk about it to Sam, then it probably involved the younger brother as well.

Shit, this was fucking irritating. Sam was aware that he had secrets too, and even though he trusted his brother, he just couldn't make himself to confess. Not about the demon blood, not about how damn good it felt when he swallowed a mouthful of pure evil. He knew how freaked out Dean would be if he told him. Freaked out and angry. But most of all, disappointed. Sam didn't want to cause him pain or lose Dean's trust in him, and as long as he didn't know of the betrayal, nothing would change. Except Sam's feelings towards himself of course, but the self-loathing and guilt was a cheap price to pay if that meant keeping the world safe. Sam's been through this a thousand times and he made the decision a long time ago, so it didn't really matter anymore.

Sometimes, he felt awfully bad about it. He went down that road because he knew there would be no looking back. Back then, he had nothing to lose – Dean was gone, too, and with the last anchor that kept him from going mad perished, he had this momentary insanity. It was hell long of a moment… He wasn't at peace (damn, not even close to it), but at least he didn't have to lie to Dean. Or keeping secrets from him, whatever, same difference. When he thought about this, it occasionally occurred to him it would've been so much easier if Dean hadn't come back – and at these times he seriously wanted to beat the crap out of himself for thinking that way.

God, just when did he become so insensitive and selfish?

\\\

Dean was watching the naked brunette sleeping on the bed, a happy smile on her lips, obviously dreaming about something nice and calming. As for Dean, he would've given almost anything for a 'nice and calming' dream, but unfortunately he couldn't do a thing about his nightmares. When it wasn't some flashback from Hell, it was usually like a horror movie, starring people he had let down so far.

The worst of all was this returning fucked-upness: it started as the hottest (or rather wettest) dream ever, then it turned into Hell, literally. Normally he wouldn't have given a damn, a nightmare was a nightmare after all, but this one was about his brother.

As long as he could remember, he always loved Sam. Of course, it started with the purest brotherly feelings which most people would just refer to as a strong 'older brother–younger brother' relationship, and a few would probably say 'brother-complex' mixed with some overprotective parental instincts. Yeah, but for Dean, it was simply love. Not the blazing 'I want to fuck you' kind, but it was definitely and undeniably _love_. Then it gradually grew into a physical need what was inevitable and totally understandable in a twenty-year-old guy's case… but he had to keep this part of himself out of the game for the sake of… well, everyone. The hardest time was when Sam left their dad and Dean for the university. Dean wanted to get rid of the shameful lust and go back to the silent admiration and caring (which he considered acceptable and very brotherly), but no matter how hard he tried, his sexual fantasies were still filled with his brother and it only seemed to get worse in the two years of Sam's absence.

By now, he accepted his fate (no, not the crap with the Apocalypse and all) more or less – that he couldn't hope for more of a love-life than quickies with chicks. Oh, speaking of chicks: Dean wasn't gay. He wanted to try it with another guy once, but then he realized that it wasn't a man's body he craved. It was Sam, only him, and _because_ it was Sam, Dean knew he wouldn't mind the fact that he's fucking a man. Hell, it wouldn't be just _a man_.

He wasn't exactly satisfied with only having Sam by his side, but it was better than nothing. Even if it hurt bad sometimes, real bad. Especially when Sam was hitting on a girl (well, it was usually the other way around, but it didn't make it any better). Fuck, Dean had almost lost it with Madison, that werewolf bitch… after that night, he swore he'd never ever let any suspicious girls or guys anywhere near Sammy again. And still, he failed with Ruby. The demon whore was anything but innocent, and even though Sam was trying so hard to convince Dean to believe her, to trust her as he did, Dean never let his guard down. Never, until he was dragged down to Hell. Then he couldn't keep an eye on his little brother anymore and everything started spinning out of control.

Dean shook his head and pulled on his clothes. He didn't want to stick around till morning; the girl wasn't half bad, but when he asked himself whether he was ready for another round or not, the answer was a pretty straightforward no. Even though he was horny for most of the time, he knew this girl just wouldn't be able to sate his hunger… so then, why should he stay?

He softly closed the door behind himself and went to his baby, quickening his steps when he felt the chilly breeze cutting through his jeans. The sky already started to lighten up, deep shades of blue mixing into the night's raven black. Dean wasted no time with the sight; the dawn was way too icy for his taste to just stand around and admire the sunrise. Besides, he could do that on his way back to the motel, enjoying the comfort of his baby at the same time.

Sam woke up to the sound of the lock, his hunter reflexes kicking him out of his dreams mercilessly in a fraction of a second. It had to be around 6 a.m., and he sure as hell hoped it was only Dean coming back from who-knows-where after a little everyone-knows-what with Miss Who-cares-about-her-name. When Sam saw his brother's silhouette by the bed, he turned to him and discreetly cleared his throat.

"Y'know, I was a bit worried when I got back here and you were gone without any sign," he sighed, voice tired and scratchy from the sleep (which wasn't nearly enough, by the way).

"Sorry, Sammy. Nature called."

Despite the joke, Dean's tone was somewhat weary. Sam raised an eyebrow; Dean used to be in the clouds after getting laid or, at least, he would have his smug smile on his lips and this special 'I had such a nice night, dude' attitude. (Not that Sam missed the last part, but it would've been unquestionably a lot better than this sour atmosphere.) Now this made Sam frown anxiously.

"Dean, seriously, what's wrong with you? Talk to me already," Sam asked him, almost whining in frustration.

"Nothing. I'm just tired. Didn't get much sleep," Dean replied icily as he pulled off his shirt and threw it on the floor lazily.

In the next moment, Dean found himself pinned to the bed, Sam on top of him, staring at his older brother warily.

"Look me in the eye, Dean, and tell me that everything's fine," he told Dean commandingly. Sam could put up with a truly impressive amount of bullshit from his brother, but this was just too much. He reached his limit and now he didn't want to stop until Dean told him what had been bugging him in the past few days.

"Get off of me," Dean growled, impatience and tension pouring from his voice.

"Or what? Dean, seriously, you know you need the release."

Dean almost let out a bitter, barky laugh. That was exactly what he needed, what he'd been craving for long years and hearing this from Sam was a fucking joke from above.

"Damn right I need it. So, release me," Dean grinded his teeth. He knew he couldn't possibly overpower Sam from this position, but the longer they stayed like this, the bigger the probability of Dean losing his mind grew. He most definitely didn't want to lose it.

"Not until you open up."

It felt like Sam was intentionally choosing his phrases so that he could tease Dean with their secondary meanings. Dean took a deep breath, trying to get a hold of his fading consciousness.

"I can't."

"Why?"

"'Cause I don't want things to be any more fucked up between us than they are right now," Dean gave a diplomatic answer. For a brief moment he thought he managed to get away with it, but then Sam leaned closer.

"Look, Dean, it's gonna get a lot worse if you keep up this non-talking policy. I've had enough." In spite of being upset, Sam managed to keep his tone clear, calm and dead serious. "Start speaking or I'll pack my stuff and walk out that door without ever looking back."

First Dean wanted to say "no, you wouldn't do that," but then he saw the cold determination in Sam's eyes. He opened and shut his mouth, not knowing where to start or how to put it. He was surely losing Sam one way or another… then he might as well take his chances and kiss him. At least that way Dean would be happy, even if only for a moment.

"Why are you doing this to me, Sammy?" Dean sighed heavily and glanced at his shoulder. Sam was holding him still. "Okay, I swear you'll have your answers, just let go of me already," he looked at Sam, his gaze slowly moving down to his brother's bare, muscular chest (which was, in Dean's opinion, screaming for being touched). He wanted to moan with thrilling lust from the sight.

Sam felt a bit of uneasiness from Dean's ravenous green eyes fixed on his body, so he shifted nervously.

"Sammy?" Dean asked in a low voice. Sam finally seemed to get the basic idea of what was going on, and at the moment, Dean couldn't decide if that was good or bad news for him; obviously, there was no way he could kiss him now, but on the long run he was most likely better off without the painful memory of a one-sided, fundamentally forced kiss.

He was lost in his thoughts about the worst case scenarios (and the best case kisses) he could come up with, when he suddenly realized that Sam was moving closer to him, his lips only an inch away from Dean's.

"It's okay," Sam whispered softly, his hot breath caressing Dean's skin in a much more tantalizing manner than the older had ever dreamt of. Dean was absolutely positive that he'd passed out from all the thinking and he was dreaming right now. That was the only way this could be happening…

And since he _was_ dreaming, he could kiss Sam as many times as he wanted, without having to worry about the consequences.

He couldn't fight the smirk when their mouths met.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I decided to upload the second and final chapter as well, since I've already finished it. Please be nice and don't forget to comment! :) On with the awaited slash now, I won't keep you from it any longer. ;)

* * *

Sam wasn't as shocked as he thought he should've been. Of course, this turn of events was no less than unexpected; he never had a clue about Dean being gay (after all, Dean seemed to enjoy his usual one-night stands pretty much and besides, he never showed any interest in guys) or having these feelings towards _him_ of all people. Somewhere deep in his mind Sam knew he should be as freaked out as Dean would be if he knew about Sam's recent… activity… but he wasn't. It seemed almost logical and natural considering their lifestyle and fucked-up past. He could relate.

That was why he let Dean kiss him in the first place. He felt a tiny bit of guilt about the kiss, though; he loved Dean as a brother, as a best friend, as a partner, but he had never thought about him in a 'romantic' way. (Not that Dean would've been able to accept some girly romantic stuff.) Nevertheless, Sam kissed back his brother with genuine devotion.

With the little available brain capacity of his that remained after the long, passionate (and in fact, damn fucking first-class) game of their tongues and lips, Sam tried to categorize his feelings about it. He could only describe it as breathtaking (literally) and strangely innate; there was nothing wrong with it. Not even its incestuous nature. He judged it to be a whole lot more reasonable than drinking demon blood at any rate.

Even if he hadn't felt that way, he would've assumed this was the least he could do for Dean. God, after he couldn't save him from Hell and _on top of that_ stabbed him in the back with his betrayal, Sam knew he was ready to do anything for Dean as atonement for his crimes. That was only a secondary track, though, a comforting line of thought about 'what if'-s and such. At the moment, there was definitely no such thing as 'what if'.

Sam lifted his hands off of Dean's shoulders and gently caressed his brother's absolutely stunned face. His mouth was still slightly open, and Sam just couldn't resist that delicious, tempting bottom lip… so he nibbled it teasingly.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're more confused than me?" Sam's words finally shook Dean out of his astonishment.

"I'm not dreaming, am I?" Dean asked himself aloud, stretching out his arms to pull Sam closer.

"Nah." Sam's smile was reassuring and warm. To Dean, it felt like _home_. The home they never had since their mother died.

"Then how come you… you're _okay_ with it?" Dean frowned in disbelief.

"You'd rather I wasn't?" Sam asked, the kind smile still on his face, his fingers lightly sliding down on Dean's throat.

"No way," Dean groaned as he gripped the back of his baby brother's neck and dragged him to his mouth in one powerful, eager go. "No fuckin' way."

This kiss was nothing like the previous one. It wasn't about exploring or experiencing. It was about need, about 100% pure hunger; damn, it tasted like _fuck_ itself, they both decided. Their teeth clashed several times, but they couldn't care less. One of Sam's bites drew blood of Dean's lower lip, but that didn't matter either. Sam let out an animalistic growl when his brother suddenly swapped their positions, then their mouths crushed again.

"…you completely sure about this?" Dean asked as fast as he could. He knew he must've sounded like he actually _wanted_ Sam to back off from this, but he just had to be certain concerning this subject. Kissing was one thing (even though that last one was hell of a kiss), but if they moved to the next level, there was no going back. Dean was very well aware of that; after all, he spent countless nights thinking about it and that was precisely why he couldn't tell Sam a single word.

He did _so great_ folding up his feelings and tucking them into the furthest corner of his mind during all these years. No one knew anything; or so it seemed. Dean wasn't exactly comfortable with this suppression, but it was slightly better than having Sam cut himself out from Dean's life entirely and permanently. But now, there was this prophet, a considerable threat for his life-long mission since he fucking _knew everything_ about them (and even wrote books, for God's sake, although he didn't buy the rights to do so, and that was somewhat irritating, by the way). There was nothing suspicious in the published volumes, but Dean feared that sooner or later there would be a sign and after that, his life with Sam would be over without doubt.

"How could I possibly be _completely sure_?" Sam's eyes were filled with desire and Dean had to realize that Sam simply didn't want to think about how sure or unsure he was. For now, there was only one thing he was sure of: he wanted Dean madly after the last kiss and nothing else mattered. There was literally _hard_ evidence to it, pressing firmly against Dean's left thigh.

A low, husky moan escaped Dean's mouth as he suddenly became very conscious of Sam's hard-on. He let his hands run down on his little brother's strong, broad chest, and then he softly stroked the delicate, honey-coloured skin of his equally muscular abdomen, leisurely moving on to his boxer-briefs. He stopped for a moment there and looked up at Sam, this time not to ask him if he was really okay with it or not but to give him a smug little grin.

He started squeezing Sam slowly, tormenting him through the thin fabric. He wanted to make his baby brother's groan with pleasure, make him come, make him scream his name. After so many years of hopeless longing, here they were, Sam laying on the bed under Dean and wanting him just as much as Dean wanted Sam.

"Dean–" Sam couldn't finish it, because his brother finally decided to cut off the teasing and pulled the annoying piece of cotton off of him. Both the sight of Dean's mouth taking his cock in and the sensation made him gasp. "Fuck," he moaned when he remembered how to breathe again.

Dean tried to do his best making use of the theoretic (at least from this approach) knowledge he had piled up so far about blowjobs, and while he was struggling with Sam's length, he mutely appreciated the skills of his one-night stands (this time, he gave them credit not for making him feel so good but because now he realized just how big effort it took to do it so smoothly). Fortunately, he got a bit used to it after a few minutes and judging from Sam's heavy panting he got better at it, too.

Now Sam felt that utter shock he'd been missing.

He could tell this was Dean's first time sucking a cock (so probably he wasn't gay despite the present situation), but hell, it was _amazing_. Just the concept of Dean actually doing something like this without hesitation (without even flinching, for fuck's sake) made Sam want more. He ran his hands through Dean's short hair, gripped his neck possessively and let out a loud growl when their eyes met. The air was vibrating between them as Dean slowly released Sam from his mouth and licked his lips afterwards.

"Like what you see?" Dean asked, his voice even deeper than usual.

Maybe it was the fact that Sam hadn't had sex recently (it was more about the blood with Ruby nowadays) or that he hadn't done it with a man before or perhaps because this was considered a taboo (and their special circumstances didn't count shit in this matter); anyhow, Sam had never felt so aroused in his life like he did now. He could barely come up with a more coherent answer than a hoarse whimper.

"Fuck yeah…"

(So much for an articulate response.)

Dean's smirk got wider and he didn't seem to care. On the contrary, he was quite pleased with that sort of reply for he wanted to tear down every ounce of self-control that still lingered in Sam. He climbed back on top of his brother with a devilish glimmer in his eyes that sent a shiver of desire up Sam's spine (this automatically resulted in a throaty moan) and kissed him once again.

Sam impatiently undid Dean's jeans (well, it was more like ripping them off along with the boxers, accompanied by a heated wheeze) and wrapped his hand around his brother's shaft. Dean's low grunt was drowned in the kiss, but Sam could _feel_ it and that was a serious goddamn turn-on. He needed more. And he needed it right _fucking_ now.

Dean was amused by his baby brother's attempt to speed things up and decided to play along. He didn't know how far Sam would go with him, but he was hoping it would be all the way. He sure as hell didn't want to stop with just jerking off each other, not after all this. He didn't exactly _plan_ to fuck Sam right here and all, but damn it, even a Winchester could be lucky sometimes.

"Sam, I need to know–" he started with a hint of anxiety in his voice, but Sam interrupted.

"It's long past questioning time, Dean. Of course you can. In fact, I expect you to."

That was just too much. His control-freak Sammy wasn't just _willing to let him_ be the top. He _expected him_ to fuck him without any previous arguing (which would've been meaningless anyway, but Dean figured Sam would at least give it a shot). He was more than glad to oblige…

He put the enormous 'why' in his head aside for the moment and went down on Sam again. He loved the way Sam stroked his hair and gripped his neck, and fuck, his lusty groans were driving him crazy. Dean took him in his mouth slowly, but this time he found the process easier, so it wasn't long till he started deep-throating. Well, that didn't go as nice as he wanted, but he managed somehow and Sam was clearly enjoying it (and he was _fucking moaning again_), so he kept it up.

"Dean, I'm close," Sam panted, his gaze locked on the highly addictive sight of Dean's mouth working on him. Dean looked up at him, but he didn't stop for a second; he picked up a faster pace. When he felt Sam's muscles tensing, he held his brother's hips in place with an iron grip to prevent him from impulsively thrusting himself balls-deep into his mouth…

"Dean…!" Sam cried out his name once he reached his limit.

…and that was a damn wise move, he decided, after Sam's hot, salty seed burst out. This way, he didn't start choking, sparing himself from quite a few uncomfortable and embarrassing moments. Dean swallowed it, every single drop, still looking into Sam's hazy, brown eyes, earning another groan from his gasping brother.

"Spread your legs for me, baby boy."

Sam obeyed without hesitation. Dean's voice was just so irresistibly sexy that he couldn't even think about refusing the order. (Not that he had any objections; he really wanted Dean to fuck him senseless.) He enjoyed the way Dean watched him intently as he raised his left knee and let his hand trail down on his inner thigh. It was Dean's turn to moan.

"Sammy, I'm so gonna fuck you," Dean growled hungrily.

"Then what the hell are you waiting for?" Sam asked with a teasing smile on his face.

Dean knew there was no right answer for that, so he bit his tongue before he could reply. His fingertips followed the track of Sam's hand on the delicate skin and started rubbing his entrance, slowly circling to make the muscles relax.

He knew it was definitely going to be tough for Sam without lube, but he couldn't do much in that matter. Dean ran his tongue down on his fingers and hoped that would be sufficient. When he inserted the first finger, he felt Sam gripping his forearm, but his little brother didn't tell him to stop. His expression said he could deal with it… so Dean patiently added a second finger. This time, Sam couldn't hold back the painful grunt, but when he realized that Dean was retreating, he desperately grabbed his brother's wrist and didn't let Dean pull away.

"Keep going," Sam huffed as he stroked Dean's hand encouragingly.

And so Dean didn't stop.

After feeling the tension gradually fading from Sam's body, he started moving his fingers carefully. He wanted Sam to enjoy this, too. His little brother was panting, though Dean couldn't tell whether it was from the pain or the pleasure. At least not until he finally found Sam's sweet spot.

"Fuck…!" Sam's whole body stiffened from the sudden rush of ecstasy. Dean's cock twitched when his baby boy's muscles tensed around his fingers. He could feel the blood running through Sam's veins inside the hot flesh, pulsating madly – maddeningly – and enticingly.

Whatever tiny fragment of self-control he had, he now lost it for sure. He hastily and somewhat automatically grabbed a condom from his jeans and took it on, his gaze scarcely leaving Sam's body. He only slowed down a little when he was ready to penetrate his baby brother, giving him a last chance to protest (there was absolutely no way he would've listened, though), but Sam didn't show any sign of displeasure. Dean found it incredibly hard to resist the temptation of quickly thrusting himself all the way in, but he tried his best to make it easier for Sam to adjust.

Dean's mind simply went blank from the sensation when Sam's passage finally surrounded him completely. He picked up an agonizingly slow pace at first, gradually increasing the speed and force of his thrusts after his brother got used to being filled.

Sam moaned shamelessly when Dean's cock rubbed his prostate over and over with every move. He grabbed Dean's hand and led it to his erection, crying out softly from the contact then biting his brother's neck to muffle his voice.

"Hey, I wanna hear you, Sammy," Dean growled and gave Sam's shaft a commanding squeeze.

"Dean…" Sam's cheeks were slightly blushed as he pulled away from Dean's collarbone. He distantly remembered how thin the walls were in these crappy motels and he smirked inwardly. Were the circumstances different, it would've definitely embarrassed him… but now, with Dean, he didn't feel ashamed. He was somewhat proud of having someone who could make him lose control like this.

Dean listened to Sam's sighs and groans and cries with satisfaction, trying his best not to come yet. (Alas, he was reduced to a trembling pile of need and as far as he knew, trembling piles of need didn't exactly have overwhelming strength of will. Moreover, they absolutely lacked the power to prevent themselves from reaching climax nearly as quick as a teenage boy.) He vaguely felt Sam's fingers running up his spine then settling on his neck, tugging him closer for a deep, fervent kiss.

Sam wrapped his legs around Dean's waist and gave his big brother a small grin when he heard Dean gasping and cursing. In return, Dean started rocking his hips forward viciously; for a brief moment, it felt almost animalistic and Sam found that fucking arousing. Dean wanted to claim his body like no one had before, and he enjoyed this feeling (though not as much as the concrete act of being claimed). Dean's intense thrusts were driving him crazy, making his very core shiver with desire, bringing him to the edge once again.

"Sammy… fuck," Dean hissed, "I'm… I'm gonna…"

"Yeah, me too," Sam answered as he clenched Dean's shoulders. "Don't hold back, babe," he added, last words turning into a groan. Then, taking his own advice, he didn't hold back and came. Dean wasn't far behind.

\\\

"So, you were gonna tell me what's bothering you, dude."

Dean snorted in disbelief. He just came back from the bathroom; in fact, water was still dripping from his hair and he only had a towel hanging around his hips (probably a bit looser than necessary, thus threatening to fall down at any moment)... So, he found his little brother sitting on his bed. Even though Sam wasn't properly dressed either (the grey, creased T-shirt and those blue boxers could hardly be described as proper, but neither of them gave a shit about what was proper; especially not in the early morning after having absolutely mind-blowing, highly addictive and, above all, incestuous sex, which in itself was quite fucking improper according to most people), he gave the impression of a medieval inquisitor, nasty iron torturing equipment and all.

"You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me, Sammy," he finally said, trying to evade the questioning.

"Well, I have to admit," Sam raised an eyebrow, "you did a good job distracting me…" Seeing Dean's jaw clench in irritation, he continued, "a _very_ good job."

"Apparently, not good enough," Dean commented sharply.

Considering the happenings of the last three hours or so, he started to think he had been a bloody idiot for not making his move earlier. This whole 'what-the-hell-am-I-supposed-to-do-about-Chuck-and-his-fucking-prophecies' frustration seemed completely childish and devastatingly awkward now. On the other hand, he knew Sam well enough to predict that he wasn't letting this go without any explanation.

Generally, he could've handled an angry or confused Sam, but now that he had what he had been wanting for years, things have changed. Going back to normal (or what they referred to as normal) was clearly not an option, not for him anyway. He sure as hell wasn't letting Sam go either, if there was the slightest chance of persuading him to stay. With him, like this.

"Couldn't we talk about the latest hits first?" Dean made a desperate attempt to delay his confession.

"Is it really that bad that you'd rather have a most likely chick-flick conversation than just spit it out at last?" Sam looked puzzled for a second, but he regained control over his features pretty fast. "Fine. So, latest hits… I'm all ears, Dean."

Dean scratched his head, not knowing where to begin. Then, after a few moments of staring absent-mindedly at the weathered wallpaper, he sat on the other bed and exhaled slowly.

"Why did you…" he hesitated, trying to find the best way to put it, "um, why did you give in? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you did, just… I don't quite get it."

There was a long, tense moment of silence before Sam replied.

"I don't know how to answer this question without being grievously misunderstood, so just hear me out, okay?" Sam waited for Dean's nod before continuing. "I have always admired you, Dean. _Loved_ you. As a big brother to look up to, an obedient soldier to learn from, a best friend to turn to." He glanced at Dean, but he couldn't read his expression. He cleared his throat, then resumed. "However, it had never occurred to me that perhaps there was more to it. Not until I saw that look on your face when I was pinning you down earlier." Sam paused again, fighting the urge to gaze at Dean and figure out his emotions. "If you can't accept my motive, then let's say that I, hmm, kinda went with the flow. That hunger in your eyes would've turned on anyone."

Dean couldn't believe his ears. He stared at Sam blankly; a part of him was relieved that they had the exact same feelings, while another (way bigger) part felt like as if it had been hit by a massive train. (Make it two trains.)

"Dean, you alright?" Sam furrowed his brow anxiously. "Did I say something–"

"No," Dean responded without hesitation. "It's just… it's fucking unbelievable, actually." His lips curled to a little smile. "Took you long enough to realize what you're feeling," he teased, amused by the fact that his hungry look had been the key to make Sam recognize all this stuff. Sure, Dean was confused in the beginning as well, especially when he first jerked off imagining it was Sam's hand on his cock. The vivid memory made him blush slightly.

"Okay, it's your turn, smartass. Let's hear your story," Sam brushed off Dean's comment and watched his brother intently, flames of determination burning in his hazel eyes.

"You just stole my line, Sammy," Dean smirked, "the only difference is that I've known for a while that – as you said – 'there was more to it', from my part at least. I guess you can figure out how I felt when we found out about Chuck and the books… so that's why I was a bit strange lately. I know, it sounds ridiculous now and I am officially ready to admit: I'm paranoid."

"Wow." Sam was stunned. (Well, this kinda made sense; following Dean's logic, paranoid as it was.) "For how long…?" he asked, feeling a bit dizzy.

(And here he thought he was the only one having nasty little secrets. 'Nasty little secrets' as in life-changing, disturbing and brutally fucked-up stuff.)

"About ten years," Dean shrugged, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"_A whole decade?_" Sam blinked several times, before adding, "Fuck me…"

"Gladly," the older replied, his tone half-joking, half-seductive. He didn't want Sam to feel sorry for him; that would definitely not change the past, but it could always ruin the present or the future. Dean wasn't going to let that happen. (Moreover, the idea of having Sam once more in the morning was so much more tempting.)

"I hope that you are aware of how childish you are right now," Sam sighed and frowned again.

"Bitch," Dean snapped.

"Jerk," Sam answered automatically; it was too late when he realized he had been tricked. He knew he should've been angry at Dean for this, but instead of arguing, he let out a carefree laugh, and then allowed his brother to push him back on the bed, to erase all the doubt and guilt and pain with just being next to him.

* * *

**A/N:** And cut! Thank you for staying with the guys till the end, I hope you enjoyed reading it at least as much as I enjoyed the writing!


End file.
